B is for Beard

Being a woman coming to work in an Islamic Republic, I prepared myself for a lot of things. I mentally prepped myself to be a ghost, to sometimes be heard, but definitely never seen. I brought a suitcase full of clothes that were two sizes too big that covered my neck, wrists and thighs. I packed a dozen scarves to cover my head with. However, the social reality of working in an office funded by the USG in Afghanistan sometimes wildly differs from my conservative expectations. But sometimes it is a little more than I could have prepared myself for.

I have really enjoyed the culture, energy and personalities of the people I work with, so here are a few anecdotes from my daily office life:

When I first arrived, I was struggling to get all of the staff names right. First off, names are all Arabic. At least in Africa, people will frequently take “Christian” names like, Peter, or Christine. Or they will be named after some popular American word, like Immaculate or Duplex. Here there are names like Amira or Taqdeerullah. Anyhow, there are three men that share my office, and two of them I always got confused and my friend helped me by saying, “B is the religious one, so just remember B is for Beard”. And he is the more religious of my team. Everyday at about 1:00p and 4:00p he will go wash, put on his Kufi (white prayer hat) and lay out his prayer rug facing the Qiblah (Mecca), and begins his subtle chanting and kneeling. At first I was very careful when interacting with B. I made sure to be very proper and to know my place. And then he sent me a video on Skype that was “too funny”. The video was set in an American work place with a man in a suite who stared as a women bent over in a tight skirt, and another woman slapped him. I courteously chuckle chatted him back.

Another day, my expat colleague was talking to another staff member and said (referring to the innocuous carrot and stick approach), “For some reason Dr., your stick is not working. You keep waving it, but nothing is happening.” Now, the thought had crossed my mind, but this is Afghanistan, so I remained professional and let the moment pass. But B, B of all people, just burst out laughing and repeats it to the next guy that comes through the door.

The contrast to B is all of the men that come through the office and don’t even acknowledge my presence. In Afghanistan, like many places I have lived, greetings are a very important ritual. You can spend 15 minutes just asking back and forth after your companion’s family. If someone walks in the room, you stop working, stand up and he goes around and greets everyone. It is insulting to just say hello and keep typing. Unless you are a woman. If you are a woman, it is fine to keep working, because many men will just walk right by your desk.

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One day while just the two of us are in the office (usually there are 4 other men), A, the young, very beautiful, shy woman that sits next to me asks out of the blue, “Is there an Amazon store?” I look over at A, sitting in her headscarf with her dark sweet eyes and ask, “A what?” assuming that she can’t possibly be talking about the Amazon.com that I frequent. “A store for Amazon. You know, the website, can you go to a store?”. I have not talked too much with A as she is really quiet (at least when men are around), but I do know that she has a husband in Canada. I walk over to her desk and she explains that her cousin is getting married next month and she wants her husband to go to the store in Canada and buy her a dress to bring with him to Afghanistan for the wedding. She shows me two dresses. One is a typical American bridesmaid type dress – black strapless with an a-line skirt to the knee. The other is a straight-up va-va-voom, Jessica rabbit type dress – bright red, also strapless but with a sweet heart cut, long, tight with a high slit. I look at this young woman and think to myself, you must be hiding a rockin body under that house-like outfit… I am shocked, are women here allowed to own such items let alone wear them?!? After further prying, it turns out that traditional Afghan weddings separate men and women, and women typically wear really fancy dresses in the hopes of impressing the mother of a young bachelor. But my colleague is already married, so I guess it is just a great opportunity to wear something sexy!

The contrast to A is G. G is really a rather ‘western’ Afghan woman. She does not wear a head scarf in the office, and she wears tighter clothing and shorter sleeves than most. She has a very friendly, blunt affect and is almost flirty with men. However, she has a horrific husband. She will come in and show us bruises or burns where her husband has beat her or thrown acid on her. She tells us that she works because when she brings home money, her husband does not beat her so much…

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N. N is one of my favorite people I have met here. He is a twenty-something, good looking, good humored, hard working man. His family and culture is very important to him but he does not take time out of the day to pray and frequently has lunch brought to his desk to eat. N and I are always laughing, when I am out sick, he always asks after me. He will tell me all about his family or about the party he attended the night before. When I asked what a party in Afghanistan is like, he tells me that he and his friends gather, and they play instruments, predominately a stringed instrument, and they sit around and sing. N really makes me wish I could actually experience The Real Afghanistan. I wish I could be invited to a friend’s home, and drink tea and sway as my friends sang traditional songs.

N recently lost a 1 year old nephew to meningitis. When he returned from leave (keeping vigil at his brothers home), the moment he entered we all hugged him (well the men did, I can’t hug men), and then immediately circled around and B launches into the sing-song of a Muslim prayer. They raise their hands at the conclusion of prayer and murmur quietly in the way that the Messenger of Allaah (peace be apon him) once did.

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The other night at dinner, my friends were telling me of a colleague who is so sweet, and always cautioning them to live in the moment. He has lost an eye to the insurgents and has been blown up a number of times.

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When I came here, everyone was afraid for me – all we know of Afghanistan is what we read or hear in the media. That information is predominantly of the war, the insurgents or the brutality of the old Taliban regime. Typically I leave room for you to make your own interpretations, but on this blog, I am really hoping that you get the following: This country has been to hell and back (well, maybe not back entirely), Afghans have dealt with, and still deal with, many complex and frightening problems, but, through it all there is joy and humor, strong relationships and a vivacious culture, and maybe most astonishing, a belief in the potential of the future - A beautiful vitality.


*I have used letters to represent coworkers as many local national staff risk their lives to work with us.